May 10, 2012

Nobody's Allowed to Just Watch

"Is that a marching band?  Do you hear that?"  Laurelyn looked out our 9th floor window of our hotel room.  "Oh my goodness!  It's a parade!  Get your shoes on.  We're going to a parade."

I was catching a mid-afternoon snooze, actually, and I woke to the click of the hotel door closing.

I sat up groggily, leaning back on my elbows to survey the situation. My half-awake self realized the room was empty of my friends, and then I pieced together the conversation I thought had been a dream.

Oh! They went to see a parade?  I can't miss this!

I threw on a pair of shoes and raced out the door, eager to catch up.  I followed the sound of the bass drums until I found my girls a couple of blocks down the street.  Sure enough, a parade, right through the city streets of Portland.

"Trish!  You know what Donald Miller and Bob Goff say: nobody's allowed to watch!  Get in there!  Get in the parade!"

So I jumped in.  I danced and clapped.  There's this bit of me that loves to join a loud, silly scene, and I'm beginning to find her again.  So I joined the parade.

And that's when I realized I'd never quite seen a parade like this one.  What I thought was a marching band was actually a small tribe of people carrying drums and dancing in a circle.  People were chanting and carrying placards.  There was a long line of policemen on bicycles, all equipped with riot gear.

I wasn't dancing in a parade.  I had joined a protest.

Would you look at this picture?  Tarbled hair, wrinkled clothes, and one leg of my jeans tucked into my boots.  I tumbled out of bed to march in a protest.

And I never even learned the cause.

But I did learn on the Portland News that there were some arrests and pepper spray a few blocks down.  So, you know.

Guess I can cross that off my bucket list.

One man's protest is another woman's parade.

11 comments on “Nobody's Allowed to Just Watch”

  1. Oh my gosh. That is great. I love the look on your face. "Um, where am I? What did I just step into? Uh, guys, a little help here? Oh well, this is fun."

  2. Define tarble, I asked Google, and it simply *couldn't* And yet we all know what you are talking about. I love this post. I love the comments it illicits. I love that we get to mentally decide if we'd roll over or run after the girls in pursuit of a parade. I'm hoping the memory of it will spur a bunch of choices we'll want to write about later, too. Thanks for sharing!

  3. This could be read as a cautionary tale by someone like me who takes caution to the extreme. But...somehow it makes me want to fling myself into life instead. Even if I sometimes wind up where I didn't expect to be.
    Such a fun story! And I love the picture. And I love that you would tumble out of bed because I probably wouldn't for anything short of a fire alarm. I want to be more like you.

  4. This was just too awesome :-). "Oh, the Places You'll Go!!" was all I could think as I read the end of this post. That, and did you ever find out what you were protesting?!

  5. Excuse me while I laugh very loudly. Good story. Also you look good in that picture. Are those skinny jeans? Girl.

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